To Merit Bliss
How could you leave it like this? or: i deserved better. a story by vee. i Water rushed over his paws. '' ''The camp had flooded entirely - in fact, it looked more like a river at this point. The only safe place was the rock shelf above the leader's den, but the water was coming up alarmingly fast. '' ''The rain came down blisteringly hard, threatening to wash away the remaining cats. If he was counting correctly, it was him and eight others. The rest of the clan had already been stolen away by the cruel waves. Another fierce rush of water burst through the camp, soaking the nine of them to their bones. One of the queens shifted her weight to cover her only surviving kit, but the action was not enough to keep it dry. He shivered, then sneezed. He could barely see, and he kept feeling the water sloshing onto his paws. The shelf wasn't going to be safe much longer, and there was nowhere else to go. The rest of the camp had been washed away long ago. Along came another wave. He gritted his teeth and dug his claws into the stone. When the wave passed, he sucked in a gust of air, then began to cough as he inhaled the rain. One of the warriors hadn't been so lucky. She wailed with all her might, before she was tugged underwater, lost forever. "NO!" another warrior screeched, her fur sprayed in every direction, "Not her! You have to go and get her!" "What can I do?" he responded, water pouring out of his mouth. She hissed, "That's my mate! You're the leader, you have to do something! We can't make it much longer!" He mewed, "I know... But what can we do? We are all that's left of SwiftClan." "You have to try!" she growled, "'You're''' the one with nine lives!"'' That's where you're wrong. Lightning struck then, electrifying the water around them. "We're dead!" the queen yowled, "This is the end of SwiftClan!" He opened his mouth to say something, but another thing had caught his eye. The warrior from before suddenly looked different - her normally grey fur was stained a hideous red. "Your fur..." he murmured. She snarled, "My fur?! Our clan is dead, and you're concerned about the state of my FUR?!" "No," he tried to say, "It's red." "Have you lost your mind!?" He looked down at the water, which had turned to match her fur. It was the same sick colour as blood, and he felt himself grow ill at the sight of it. "Can't you see it?" he rasped, "The water?" "I can see the water just fine!" she growled. He cried, "You don't understand! Look at it! LOOK AT IT!" A third wave came through, this time, red and salty smelling. He only had time to stare at it in horror, before it slammed into his weakened body, and carried him away. The last he heard was the scream of his Clanmates, before there was nothing but silence. - Mosspaw awoke with a start. His heart thumped in his chest, violently hitting his chest cavity. His ears rung, and he could still feel the blood matting his fur. It was dark in the apprentice den, the only light came from the moonlight that shone through the cave entrance. Gradually, his breathing returned to normal. He was still frightened, but the gentle snores from the others helped keep him calm. He was one of five current apprentices, and the warmth of the others made him feel safer. Mosspaw tried considering why he'd had the nightmare, but every time he went to recall it, he could only shudder. It was the dry season in SwiftClan now, and it had not rained for half a moon. The moss nearby rustled, and one of his fellow apprentices raised their head, "Mosspaw? You're shaking like a leaf!" Mosspaw turned his head to see his littermate, Shadowpaw. Her eyes were wide, and her was expression was sympathetic. He gulped, then whispered, "I had a really bad dream." Shadowpaw moved slightly, and licked his cheek, "It's okay. You're safe now, and whatever happened can't get to you now. Rainpaw and I are here to protect you, you know." She flicked her tail towards their third littermate, who had his nose tucked under his paws. Mosspaw mewed, "But what if it was a prediction of things yet to come? Y-Yarrowpaw used to have dreams like that, and then she became the Medicine Cat Apprentice!" Shadowpaw snorted, "Most of the time, dreams are just dreams. You'll be fine, I promise." Mosspaw lay back down in his nest, "Thanks, sis." "Anytime," she purred. - The medicine den smelled of herbs. Mosspaw wondered briefly why he was surprised by that fact, as he pushed his way through. Yarrowpaw was sorting herbs, pushing the tiny leaves and seeds into various cracks in the walls with her tiny, nimble paws. "Is Cindernose not around?" Mosspaw mewed. Yarrowpaw jumped, and turned her head. Her black fur was pricked, and her yellow eyes took a moment to register who he was before she replied, "She's gathering mallow, and asked me to sort these. Can I help you, or is it a big issue?" Mosspaw kicked the dust on the ground skittishly, "It's just something silly. I'm really sorry for bothering you." Yarrowpaw snorted, "If you came in the first place, it must be at least a little important. What, you got a stomach ache? Tear a claw?" "I..." Mosspaw stumbled, "I had a really bad dream." Yarrowpaw's ear flicked, "Uh-huh. Go on." Mosspaw mewed, "I was the leader in this dream... and SwiftClan was dying. There was water everywhere, or maybe it was blood, and I ended up dying!" Yarrowpaw huffed, "If it's a good night sleep you're looking for, we have poppy seeds. But I'm no dream interpreter, so I really can't help you on that route." Mosspaw sighed, "Thanks, Yarrowpaw. I appreciate the offer, but I really want to know why I had such an awful dream in the first place." Yarrowpaw turned back to her herbs, "Dreams can just be dreams. I know that's not what you want to hear, but..." Mosspaw mewed, "Thank you. I appreciate your honesty." "Anytime. Goodbye, Mosspaw," Yarrowpaw replied. "Bye, Yarrowpaw." - "The five of you are very close to becoming warriors." Mosspaw stifled a yawn. The sun was barely up, but all the apprentices - sans Yarrowpaw, of course - had been dragged out of their warm nests, and into the cool morning. His joints were still stiff from a poor night's sleep, though it had been better than a few days ago, when the horrid nightmare had rampaged through his head. Still, the more he thought about the nightmare, the more irrational it seemed. His fur hadn't even been the right colour. Maybe Yarrowpaw had been right. Maybe it realy had been just a dream, albeit a strange one. He glanced around, watching the sunlight as it streamed through the trees, dappling the ground with spots of white-gold warmth. It was beautiful, and he flicked his tail playfully.